


these quiet moments

by aceofsparrows



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:14:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28465134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceofsparrows/pseuds/aceofsparrows
Summary: a collection of quiet moments{tags subject to change}
Relationships: Callum & Sarai (The Dragon Prince), Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Harrow/Sarai (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	1. one

"Why do you draw me like that?" She asks, after everything is quiet and it's just them awake. They're slouched in bed, his head on her shoulder, charcoal pencil sketching lazily across the page of the sketchbook open on their laps between them.

"Like what?" He asks, voice soft with the anticipation of sleep. The line on the page curls gently, and one of her horns takes shape.

She shifts, looking sideways at him. "I'm always so... pretty in your drawings. Perfect. I'm not like that, not really."

The pencil pauses. He sits up, looking at her with those wide and honest green eyes. "Do you really think that?"

She blinks. "Well, yeah."

He takes her hand, slender and calloused, and intertwines his five fingers with her four.

"The first time I saw you, d'you know what I thought?"

She raises an eyebrow. " _'Oh no! I'm going to die!_ '?"

He laughs. "Well, probably, but that's not what I remember. I remember thinking 'I need to draw her'. And d'you know why?"

She rolls her eyes. "No, why?"

"You were..." He pauses, a well-known far-off look in his eye. "You _are_ so fascinating. I'd never seen an elf before, not in the flesh, and here you were, and you were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. And I knew, if I made it out alive, I had to draw you."

She laughs, unconvinced. "You're just sayin' that to flatter me."

"Rayla," he says carefully, firmly, and she stops, looking at him. "I draw you like that because _that's what you look like_. You are beautiful, and strong, and most importantly, you're _you_. I draw you because I can't stop looking at you, because I can't stop thinking about you. _I draw you because I never want to lose you."_

She swallows, looking down at their hands, and then at the page of the sketchbook. Familiar eyes stare back at her, slim face framed by silver hair, curved horns half-finished, curved markings dark against pale, soft cheeks. It's her. Since that night of the full moon, it's always been her.

"You won't lose me," she promises softly, kissing the back of his hand, then his cheek. He smiles, returning the gesture by kissing the tip of her nose and then her mouth, short and sweet.

"I know."


	2. two

"Mama?"

It's late, maybe even late enough to be called early, and there's a voice in the doorway.

"Mama?" He says again, and she blinks in the darkness, rolling over to sit up and look toward the sound.

"Yes, baby?" She asks the little shape in the doorway. "Did you have a bad dream?"

There's no answer, but little sock feet on stone come pitter-pattering across the room, and her son climbs onto the end of the bed, crawling across the bedspread. She reaches over to strike a match and light a candle, and then there's a small pool of light beating away the darkness and she can see him before her.

He's small, but growing bigger every day. He's five, only a month or two from six. His green eyes-- so like his father's and his step father's-- are haunting and deep in the candlelight, and his cheeks are streaked with tears.

"Oh, baby, come'ere," she coos, opening her arms. He practically leaps into her embrace. "Now, tell me what's wrong, baby," she says, rubbing his back in comfort while he clings to her neck.

"I had a bad dream," he starts, voice already thick with tears. "I heard some of the ladies whispering, when I couldn't see you, about how they thought you could die. How they thought Ezzie could die. And in my dream you--you--" he takes gulping breaths as he starts to cry again, but his mother knows well what he fears.

"I'm okay now, Callum. I'm okay, and Ezran is okay... it's all okay." She holds him tightly, smoothing the thin, downy hair on his head. "Being away was hard, but I'm back now, and I'm not going to go again, okay?"

Callum leans back, wide eyes searching her face.

"You promise me, Mama?"

Sarai smiles, kissing her eldest son's forehead. "I promise, baby. I promise."


End file.
